Throw hither all your quaint [enamelled eyes],
That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, 140
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the [rathe] primrose that forsaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet,
The glowing violet, 145
The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine,
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
And every flower that sad embroidery wears;